SEAN
Sean Feenagael of "no fixed abode Constable" straightened himself up from washing his enamel mug in the stream and scouring it with gravel and sighed at both ends of his meagre body, the mug served two purposes one for drinking tea which was usually teased from the almost pure white tea bag now hanging on a nearby twig drying and also as a perfunctory begging bowl when he was sitting on the pavement not too far away from the HSBC cash point with a cardboard notice around his neck saying "Help An old Ex Sailer" where to complete the picture he sported a row of campaign medals meticulously cut from the more colourful pieces of a Kelloggs cornflake packet. It was not that Sean hadn't served in the Navy he had enlisted in the Merchant Navy all those time forgotten years ago and had served under the old red duster for seven years seeing places like Lisbon, Cairo, Buenos Aires and the golden rivet, Sean was invalided out with a small pension after an unfortunate accident when a mooring cable snapped lashing him across the legs and leaving him with a decided limp, a limp he decided to use whenever his time before the pension review board came up. He used to have the company of a small Jack Russell terrier to get the sympathy vote from passers by and being a soft hearted person most of his "takings" went on dog food and Sean regretfully noticed that the dog was getting fatter by the day while he was getting thinner by the minute eventually he sold "Timmy" for that was the mutt's name to a lady passer by for the sum of 8/6d a canny lady who in their arguing over the amount to be paid clinched the deal with her final offer of reporting Sean to the RSPCA an offer that he couldn't refuse so the dog went into a better home while Sean went into the nearest Weatherspoons.
Looking up at the sky Sean decided on two things one that it was a fine sunny day and past eleven o/clock and two that it was time, it being May, for his Spring bath, there was a place a short distance downstream where the water was wider and deeper and as he stretched out in the luxury of the clear fresh stream Sean lay back pleased in the fact that with the summer approaching he could now travel the highways and byways of rural England and not have to frequent the towns which were a tad warmer in the Winter offering the comfort of shop doorways where a fellow could get the occasional nights sleep when not having the toe of a policeman's size elevens teaching one's scrotum the offside rule."Life's good " thought Sean throwing the passing Coca Cola tin into the bushes, " T ' sun's shining God's in his heaven and all's right with the world", at that moment a passing crow crapped on his balding pate "Grillocks " expounded our hero, fortunately having enough water around to cleanse his soiled brow.
Sean eventually arose from the pool like some baroque Venus and proceeded to drip dry, shake dry and sun dry his hairy frame then donning his tattered apparel started to sort out his goods and chattels scattered around his leafy clearing packing them into the twenty seven supermarket plastic bags which were hanging festooned around the rusting heap of a bicycle which was his only means of transport not so much transport for Sean more for the twenty seven carrier bags. Unlocking the tattered velocipede from its sycamore anchor post, because as Sean had so often expressed "You'se can't trust nobody these days", and feeling much refreshed after his seasonal immersion our perceptive seer pushed his vehicle in the direction of the lane.
The crow watched him pass underneath her tree and decided not to adorn him again and flew off in search of better carrion. Sean even started to whistle through his broken teeth the sun was out, he was relatively clean and he tyres had stayed up on his bicycle yes things were definitely all right with the world.
The author watched Sean push his tattered machine along the byway and thought "What the hell do I do with him now? I have this great power over this little man I have conjured out of thin air " "I know" - Suddenly one of the plastic bags attached to Sean's handlebars split open for no apparent reason scattering the contents into the dust "Grillocks" said Sean again uttering his favourite expletive "What did you want and go an' do that for?" "Just for something to do" said the author "well it wasn't funny" said the little man retrieving his possessions from the road "Just when I was beginning to enjoy the day, why couldn't you have done something more useful? like me finding a lottery ticket which was a winner and making me a million" "It wouldn't have suited you to be a millionaire Sean that would be too easy" "Try me" pleaded to son of Ireland "Shut up Sean or I'll make it rain, but I'll tell you what I'll do I'll grant you three wishes"
The bicycle suddenly stopped as the front wheel has come to rest against a large grimy tankard half embedded in the dirt track stooping Sean loosened the dirt around the object and with a grunt of satisfaction prised it loose holding it up the article for appraisal "Dat looks as though it might be valuable" said the sudden antique connoisseur giving the mug a wipe with his sleeve at that moment there was a blinding flash with Sean going one way and the bike going the other and when he sat up and wiped his eyes there was the tankard on the ground with a little fellow in a green overcoat Wellington boots and a red cap sitting astride it smiling at Sean through the clearing smoke."Hello there" said the figure "I'm Whitbread the leprechaun of the tankard and I'm here to grant you three wishes" "That's very kind of the author" said the surprised tramp " I suppose it's no good asking for that lottery ticket 'cause he said that was out of the question, give me a moment to cogitate" the astonished recipient of the three wishes sat rubbing his bristly chin deep in thought in fact you could almost hear the grey cells grinding together "I know" said the thinker "I'll have that tankard made of silver and full of Guiness and is forever full no matter how much I drink" "Is that your final answer?" said Whitbread adding with a cheeky grin "You don't want to phone a friend?" "Shut your gob and work your magic if that's what you can do" replied our hero "No sooner said than done" answered the diminutive green man and in a flash there in front of them was a gleaming goblet with the drink of the gods overflowing down the sides "Now that's magic" exclaimed Sean fastening his lips onto the side of the chalice and downing it's contents in a couple of seconds and then watched in amazement as the receptacle immediately refilled "Dat's grand " said Sean wiping his lips and immediately knocking off the second manifestation, by the time our luminary was on his fifth pint Whitbread was beginning to get bored with waiting around and said "Come on now how about those other two wishes, I've got a goblin ceilidh to go to" "Ok" said the semi inebriated mendicant "I'll tell what I want with the other two wishes "I'll have a couple more of these"
Author "Oh noooo!"
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Short story by Toonist
Read 513 times
Written on 2010-12-07 at 11:39
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